Passion Overtime

by Pamela Yaye

  “Oh, but I do,” he insisted, his eyes wide and innocent. He’d perfected the deer-in-headlights look, and unfortunately for Kyra, her boss was eating it up. “I want to check out the aquarium and the Atlanta Sports Museum.”

  Walter nodded. “Great, it’s settled. Kyra will show you around after lunch.”

  “It sounds wonderful.” Kyra forced the words out through clamped lips. “We should hurry, so we don’t get caught in the lunch rush.”

  Terrence gave her an affectionate touch on the arm. “Ladies first.”

  Hating the pompous smirk on his lips, she hurled a dirty look at him. Why was he doing this? Is he trying to get a rise out of me? Summoning a smile for her boss’ benefit, she licked the dryness from her lips. Terrence’s eyes were filled with laughter, and though she took a step forward, he didn’t remove his hand.

  Brampton’s Bar, a high-end restaurant located downtown served breakfast until closing and its extensive wine list and eclectic menu brought patrons in from neighboring counties. Prompt seating, efficient servers and a peaceful ambience made the establishment the talk of the town.

  “We should order a bottle of wine,” Mr. Morrow announced, stopping a passing waiter. “Terrence, I know you haven’t accepted the coaching position yet, but I feel like celebrating! This could be the start of another Hollington dynasty!”

  Terrence winked at Kyra.

  A Southern girl from a family of big, strapping men, Kyra had always been taken by strong, silent types with impeccable manners. He greeted the manager as if they were old friends, chatted up the hostess as she led them out to the patio and entertained Walter with stories about his most harrowing days in the NFL.

  A cell phone beeped, and Kyra reached into her purse.

  “Sorry, it’s mine.” Putting down his fork, Terrence cleaned his mouth with his napkin and pushed away from the table. “Normally, I wouldn’t answer, but I’ve been waiting to hear back from my agent all day. Do either of you mind if I take this call?”

  Mr. Morrow flicked a hand as if to dismiss his apology. “Go on, Terrence. I’ll see you at practice on Monday.” He gestured towards Kyra. “You’re in good hands. Kyra will take great care of you.”

  “I don’t doubt it.” Confident to the point of appearing cocky, he winked at her and rose to his feet. They were sequestered behind soaring hedges of fiscus trees that shielded them from prying eyes, but as Terrence strode off through the patio, Kyra noticed that everyone, from the businesswomen downing wine to the teenager with the fashion sense of T-Pain, turned and stared admiringly at the former NFL running back.

  Mr. Morrow ingested a mouthful of chicken. “Think we could convince Terrence to invite some of his celebrity friends to the Winter Wonderland Ball?”

  Kyra thought about it for a moment, then said, “I’ll see what I can do.”

  “I don’t have to tell you how important it is that we get Terrence here at Hollington,” he began, stroking his jaw reflectively. “We have a brand new stadium and have practically given tickets away, but the stands are still empty.”

  “That’ll change once Terrence becomes head coach. Soon, every seat in the stadium will be filled. Mark my words, Walter. You’ll see.”

  “I love your enthusiasm.” His head remained bent, but he was watching her intently. “You’re in the last year of your contract, right?”

  Kyra nodded. She tried to look interested in what her boss was saying, but how could she focus when Terrence was staring right at her? His smile lacked its usual warmth. At ten feet away, he was too far to be heard, but the troubled expression on his face told her the conversation was not going well.

  “You’ve given your heart and soul to this school and you’re one of the best PR directors Hollington’s ever had.” He was smiling, but the expression on his face was solemn. “I’m going to level with you, Kyra. What happens this season is going to have an enormous effect on your future. If Terrence signs on as head coach, I’ll see to it that you get a raise and a long-term contract.”

  As if I don’t have enough pressure, she thought, annoyed.

  “I have to run. I’m chairing this afternoon’s board meeting and I don’t want to be late.” Ending the conversation, he stood and slipped his beige suit jacket over his shoulders. “Take good care of our star coach. See to it that Terrence has everything he needs. Spoil him. Roll out the red carpet. Be extra nice.”

  She slaked her thirst by sipping her ice water. “I’ll try my best.”

  “That’s what I like to hear.” Walter took another swig from his wineglass, and then was gone. But before Kyra could enjoy a quiet moment with her thoughts, Terrence was back.

  “That was fast,” she said.

  “I didn’t want to keep you waiting.”

  “Everything okay?”

  “Yup.”

  “Liar.” Leaning forward in her chair, arms folded casually on the table, she studied him for a full minute. “The clenched jaw says it all, but if that’s not enough, you’re gripping your glass so tight your veins are popping.”

  Slowly, his frown fell away and was replaced with a grin. “You still know me better than anyone else.”

  Kyra swallowed. Her tongue felt like dead weight, and it didn’t matter how much she moved it, it wouldn’t oblige. Needing a diversion, she forked broccoli into her mouth and chewed. “So, what’s up? Why do you have a long face?”

  “I’m in talks with a network to host my own show, but negotiations have stalled. They’re trying to lowball me, and my agent thinks we should bail.”

  “Wow,” she breathed, her voice laced with awe, “you’ve got your hands in everything. Movies, television, endorsements.”

  His hearty laugh drew the attention of the brunette at the next table. Winking, she formed her pouty lips into a coy smile. Terrence looked away. “I try to stay busy. I’d lose my mind if I had nothing to do.”

  “I’d kill to have some more free time.”

  “That’s what you think, but after a few weeks, you’d be itching to go back to work,” he argued. His eyes were sharp and wide and showed how much he was enjoying their banter. “There’s no substitute for getting out and being with people.”

  “Maybe for a social butterfly like you, but I have plenty to do at home. I have so many projects on the go, I had to make a list!”

  Squinting, he leaned forward. She saw the amused sparkle in his eyes and wondered if she’d revealed too much. His smile had always been her downfall, and that hadn’t changed in the time they’d been apart. Every time he flashed those pearly whites, she went soft. “Tell me what’s on your list.”

  “It’s nothing. Just a few things I enjoy doing.”

  “Come on,” he prodded. “Don’t be shy. I’d love to know what you do for kicks.”

  Was it the sweltering heat that made it impossible for her to think, or his intrusive gaze? Convinced she was reading too much into his questions, she told him about the extensive renovations that had been done to her house last month. “I still have to clean out the garage, unpack boxes and find a company to landscape before winter. Then, there’s my scrapbooking projects, and all the orders I have for my holiday candles.”

  “You still make aromatherapy candles?”

  Nodding, she bit back a smile. “I’m surprised you remember.”

  “How could I forget? I had the best-smelling dorm room in Rupert Hall. You always accused me of flirting with the other co-eds, but it had nothing to do with me and everything to do with your products!”

  “It didn’t help that you liked strutting around without your shirt on.”

  “I was trying to impress you.”

  Kyra gulped down some water.

  “Scrapbooking, huh? I should get you to help me organize all the pictures, and mementos I’ve collected during my career.”

  Not wanting to offend the superstar athlete, she said, “Not a problem, I’d love to help out. Just say when—”

  “How does tonight sound?”

  “Sorry
, I’m busy.” Unsettled by his steely gaze, Kyra lowered her eyes and pushed out a breath. She needed to steady her nerves before she embarrassed herself. “Back to your deal with Fox. How are you going to find time to host a Sunday morning sports show, with all the other things you’ve got on the go?”

  “I’ll find the time. Sleep’s overrated. As long as I get five hours, I’m good to go.”

  “You should take it easy,” she advised. “After ten years and countless hits, fractures and broken bones, you need sufficient rest.”

  “Kyra, no one retires at thirty-two. I might not be healthy enough to play football, but I have a few good years left in me.”

  “You never were one to heed advice.”

  “That’s true.” They were two, meaningless words, but his voice was thick with feeling. His expression sobered. “My mom told me to marry you, but I wouldn’t listen. That was the worst decision I ever made and I’ve regretted…”

  Pressing her back flat against the chair, she uncrossed her legs and wrung her hands fretfully in her lap. Kyra wanted to tell Terrence to stop, wanted to tell him to quit living in the past, but the words stuck in her throat. They were lodged so deep she could hardly breathe. Sucking in some fresh air, she decided to deal with his erroneous statements head on. Laughing, joking and reminiscing about the good old days took Kyra back to one of the happiest times in her life, but she had to draw the line. Right here, right now. She wasn’t about to take up with an arrogant skirt-chaser who’d betrayed her once before.

  “I’m glad Walter contacted me about the coaching position.” He gazed at her, his eyes bright, his big, handsome smile more endearing than a fluffy, white kitten clawing at the back door. “I have a lot to be thankful for. Job offers are starting to roll in, I’m feeling stronger than I have in years and then there’s…you.”

  Kyra wanted to laugh, but didn’t. Terrence Franklin had some nerve. He’d broken her heart when he’d dumped her, but arrogantly thought she could be placated with smooth lines and wide smiles. Waiting impatiently for him to wrap up his speech, she tried not to stare at his thick, juicy lips. An unscrupulous charmer, he lived for the intrusive glare of the spotlight and seemed to derive extreme pleasure from seeing her sweat. Kyra didn’t care if he had a perfect smile, bulging biceps and a tight butt. She wouldn’t date him if he were the last man on Earth. But if all that was true, why was she sitting in the stifling heat, shooting the breeze with Terrence when she had tons of paperwork waiting for her back at the office?

  “I’m grateful for this opportunity.” His hand grazed hers. “If it wasn’t for the job offer, I would have missed the chance to see you again.”

  It took Kyra a moment to organize her thoughts, but when she opened her mouth, a lie rolled off her lips. “Terrence, you’re a nice guy, and I’m sure you’ll make some woman very happy some day, but with our history we could never be more than friends.”

  “You’re getting a head of yourself, aren’t you? We haven’t even had our first kiss yet.” He changed the subject so fast Kyra was convinced she’d misheard him. “What are your plans for the weekend? Got anything special going on?”

  “Nothing much. Visiting my parents, cleaning the house, maybe a little baking. What about you?”

  “My cousins are huge trivia buffs and they need a third man for their team, so I’ll be at The Tavern tonight kicking some butt.”

  Her eyes ballooned. “You play trivia?”

  “I know. Geeky, huh?”

  “No, not at all. You graduated with high marks in all of your English courses, but you always downplayed how well you did,” she said. “I just couldn’t imagine an NFL superstar like you hanging out with us at The Tavern on Friday night.”

  “I’m more than just a handsome athlete, you know. I’m smart, too!” His smile increased tenfold. “You should come by the bar and watch me do my thing.”

  “I’ll be there, but not to watch you,” she told him, with a dismissive shake of her head. “My team, the Foxy Cleopatras, are the reigning champs.”

  “Well, prepare to be dethroned!”

  “It’s not going to happen, Terrence. We’ve been undefeated for weeks.”

  “But there’s a new sheriff in town,” he countered, “and I hate to lose.”

  “I don’t know what your cousins told you, but trivia night at The Tavern isn’t for the faint of heart. The questions are hard, the competition is tough and the crowd’s wild.”

  “I played in the NFL. I can handle a bunch of suits and nerds.”

  “Who are you calling a nerd?” To underscore her disgust, she gave a snort of disdain. “What’s your team name?”

  “The Verbal Ninjas.”

  “That’s original,” she drawled.

  “It doesn’t matter what we’re called. You’re going down!”

  Kyra burst into uncontrollable laughter. “Keep dreaming, pretty boy! You have a better chance of being struck by lightning than beating me!”

  “Wanna bet?” He slanted his head to the right, studying her, examining her, wondering how to make this deal work to his advantage. “If I win, you have to cook dinner for me tomorrow night and if I lose I’ll take care of your landscaping.”

  “You?” The skepticism in her voice was palpable.

  “I had my own landscaping business when I was a kid. Ten dollars a yard. It wasn’t much, but it kept me out of trouble.”

  In jest she said, “I’d hate for you to ruin your sneakers.”

  “Then you better bring your A game, because I play to win!” Terrence fished some bills out of his wallet and placed them on the silver billet. Grinning like a Cheshire cat, he stood and came around the table. He pulled up behind her chair and placed a hand on her shoulder. “How about that tour? I thought we could start at…”

  Terrence murmured in her ear, and chills zipped down her back. Against her will, but too dumbfounded to protest, Kyra rose on wobbly, sweat-drenched legs. She commanded her feet to move, and they reluctantly obliged. With a hand fixed to the slope of her back, his touch more dizzying than a French kiss, he escorted her though the sun-drenched patio and out onto Stayler Avenue.

  Chapter 8

  Known for its fine dining, designer boutiques and ten-thousand square-foot mansions, Highland Hills was home to some of the most prominent businessmen in the state. And on Friday nights, the movers and shakers in the community crammed into The Tavern for old-fashioned steaks, vintage wine and scintillating conversation.

  Desperate to escape the pelting rain, Kyra yanked open the wooden door and rushed inside, almost knocking over a teenage girl with dyed blue hair. Housed in a historic bungalow, The Tavern had long been regarded as a Georgia landmark and the framed portraits hanging at the entrance paid tribute to the city’s founders. With its extended bar, and muted lighting, the century-old restaurant was the ideal place for after-work drinks or a cozy first date.

  Shaking the water from her umbrella, she peered into the dining room, canvassing the area for her girlfriends. Every Friday, the women met for food, conversation and cocktails. Shaunice Berkley was a devoted mom to her preteen daughter, but she never missed an opportunity to hang out with her girls. Being an emergency room nurse was a stressful job, and Shaunice often joked that if it wasn’t for happy hour, she would have been carted off to a psych ward a long time ago.

  In the same instance she found Shaunice, she spotted Terrence. As if by design, he passed right in her line of vision. Kyra stood there for a moment, weighing her options.

  Should she greet Terrence or make a beeline for her table? If she ignored her girlfriend, she’d hear about it later, but it didn’t seem right dodging Terrence. After all, it was her job to entertain him while he was in town.

  “Kyra! Over here!” Terrence yelled, drawing the attention of everyone in the lounge. When she didn’t move, he strode over. He smiled as if he thought he was cute. And he was. Casual, in a white polo shirt, jeans and a buckskin jacket, he looked even sexier than he had that afternoon out on the
football field. Wearing thousands of dollars’ worth of bling, in a place that the upper class frequented, he stuck out like a priest at a biker bar. His crooked grin, arresting eyes, and homeboy swag made all the women in the room sit up and take notice, including her.

  Remembering all the laughs they’d shared that afternoon, she tore her gaze away from his delicious mouth and waved in greeting. Terrence was an affable, easygoing guy, so why did she get flustered whenever he was around? She enjoyed his wit and his personality, and his bad-boy vibe only emphasized his appeal.

  Showing admirable poise, she pushed out a breath and greeted him with a tentative smile. “Hey. How’s it going?”

  “You made it.” To her utter surprise, he bent down and pecked her cheek. “I’ve been watching the door for the last fifteen minutes.”

  Kyra tripped over her tongue. His voice had a soporific effect on her and she suddenly felt light-headed. Why did this keep happening to her? Around Terrence she became more self-conscious than a preteen girl buying her first training bra. Recognizing the danger of being so close, she moved her body away from his. “Traffic’s usually crazy on Friday nights, but the rain made the drive ten times worse.”

  “This is your last chance to back out of the bet,” he told her. “My cousin Damon is even more competitive than I am and he suggested the loser pay the winner’s tab. Think your friends will go for it?”

  “Bring it on, bucko! We’re going to mop the floor with you!” Laughing, she agreed to meet up with him after the game and crossed the room toward her friend.

  “Is that Terrence Franklin?” Shaunice asked, gripping her forearm.

  “Yeah, that’s him.”

  “He looked mighty happy to see you.”

  Kyra told her about the bet. “I’m not worried. We’ve got this, right?”

  “Not if Black Barbie doesn’t show up. Where is Aimee, anyway?”

  “Shaunice, I told you to quit calling her that,” Kyra scolded. “How would you feel if I made fun of you behind your back?”

  “Aimee’s plastic. It fits.” She lifted her martini glass to her thin, glossy lips. “I don’t know what men see in her. She’s as fake as a blow-up doll!”